


Third Times Lucky

by JustSuperMione



Series: R/Hr canon missing moments [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Quidditch, Romantic Comedy, luck kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSuperMione/pseuds/JustSuperMione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was his summer at the Burrow and dessert all rolled into one kissable package. He was dizzy with the longing for her. Ron tries three times to give Hermione a kiss for luck before her Defence Against the Dark Art's O.W.L. Unfortunately, he comes up against Harry Ruddy Potter, the boy who interrupts. The third part of the Luck series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The boy-who-interrupts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened in the run up to that final Quidditch match? Ron 'kind of' throws Harry under the Knight Bus!

** Third Time’s Lucky **

**The third part of the Luck series: Ron tries three times to give Hermione a kiss for luck before her Defence Against the Dark Art’s O.W.L. OotP Unfortunately he comes up against Harry Ruddy Potter, the boy who interrupts.**

* * *

 

_He was pursuing her through the musty old library. Every now and again she’d turn towards him coyly. Her eyes were so beautiful sparkling like that; begging him to do something mischievous. Her wild hair was so gorgeous; it shone, daring him to count its colours. Her lips were just begging to be kissed; plumb, moist and inviting. What’s more, she was wearing the perfume he given her for Christmas._

_She smelt like his summer at the Burrow and dessert all rolled into one kissable package. He was dizzy with the longing for her. All he wanted was to kiss her. So he chased her, they weaved in and out of the stacks in a dance of longing. Suddenly, she slowed down and bit her lip. This was their chance; purposefully he ducked his head..._

_'A little further,'_ the voice said. Half asleep Ron sat up quickly. It was Harry; struggling to reach some unknown thing. He hoped it was a snitch and Harry was having a Quidditch dream but guessed it was one of his other dreams. One of the endless corridor dreams that meant he hadn’t been practicing Occlumency. 

‘Harry Ruddy Potter, the boy who interrupts!’ Ron muttered darkly. Frustrated, he punched his pillow and threw himself down. He had been so close to kissing Hermione that time... In fact, this was a continuing theme in his life.

Well, there was one thing Harry was incapable of interrupting (because he didn’t know about it) and that was Hermione kissing him for luck before quidditch. It happened before _most_ practices now. Somehow she’d find a way to steal away and after those lips touched his face, he felt invincible. And they needed all the luck they could. Matches were harder because of Harry’s Quidditch ban and Hermione’s concern for Harry’s emotional state was downright distracting.

A lot of the time, Ron was tempted to slip Harry a nose bleed nougat so that he and Hermione could have they’re chance. However, that wouldn’t work because not only would he not be stupid enough to eat a nougat, as someone who’d watched the twins with interest, he probably had the antidote stashed away.

Grumpily Ron sighed. His life would be so much easier if Harry knew about this thing he had with Hermione. He didn’t think he could call their kissing a relationship (even though he wanted it to be). And it wasn’t like they’d purposely started this thing; the kissing for luck had had started accidently.

The first time it happened, before the second tri-wizard task. In McGonagall’s tartan filled office of all places! It’d had been _brilliant_. They’d nearly kissed; they’d argued, agreed to disagree before she leap up and a kiss meant for his cheek landed on his lips. Automatically, the resulting snog had been long, passionate and full of heat. It was definitely a snog. And they survived so it had to have helped.

The next time she’d done it had been in the library before one of his practices, and he was certain that’s what his latest Hermione dream was based on. It had been swift but meaningful:

_‘Okay, what was that for?’ he’d grinned, touching that spot on his face as if trying to capture the sensation._

_‘For luck of course,’ Hermione said in a business-like tone; before spinning on her heels and slipping away._

Unsurprisingly, with his hormones ranging like a hungry hippogriff, his Quidditch performance had improved. It was just when they couldn’t meet pre-practice/match that his goal keeping got worse.  

Kissing him for luck wasn’t the only time they’d kissed during this school year: there had been the time she arrived at Headquarters when they’d had a quick snog session in the living room; they’d also set a Christmas kiss tradition (in Grimmauld Places library); not to mention the time they’d hidden from the Inquisitor Squad in Hogwarts library. That time they’d been caught by Draco and to see him blanch had been mind blowing.

With a smile he realised she definitely had a thing for snogging in libraries; he’d have to remember that.

Before Christmas he guessed Harry was going to snog Cho and Hermione had told him off for being so crass. Later, she’d be insisted that whenever they were doing wasn’t as crass as snogging. If Hermione knew he thought of their kissing sessions as snogging she’d have given him detention or something. Snogging didn’t seem crass when done with Hermione. However, it wasn’t entirely pure and virtuous either.

Snogging was like being Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper not at all what he’d expected. He was a natural at snogging; quidditch, not so much. His mind began to race from pleasant Hermione feelings to direr Quidditch thoughts.

* * *

 

The next morning Ron hadn’t slept much and he didn't want to deal with Harry. He left their bedroom in a hurry and straight into the path of Hermione. 

 

'What's up with you?' she asked quickly; obviously noticing his dishevelled appearance.

 

'Broken night sleep,' he replied shortly. The question was in her eye. Fed up, he groaned, 'Harry had one of his funny dreams.'

 

‘Funny dreams like a normal adolescent thing,’ she said screwing her face up, ‘or the _other_ kind,’ she concluded looking unsure. Ron raised his eyebrow with the deepest sarcasm. 'But Harry shouldn't be having those dreams,' Hermione countered moving forward to adjust his tie, 'what about Snape's lessons?'

 

'I don't know Mione,' he answered gently feeling calmer as she lightly touched his tie, 'ask him!' 

 

'Don't worry I will do,' she said with grim determination. 

 

For a minute, Ron felt a vindictive smile play upon his lips. However, as Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, the tired look on Harry’s face changed Ron’s mind. _'Mione_ , not just now... leave it till later!' he whispered.

 

It was only after Harry had made the comment about his Quidditch performance that Ron felt less-charitable. He noticed Hermione’s lips thin and was happy she dealt with Harry.

 

It wasn't until he was on his way to Quidditch practice that he really began to see how irate Hermione was. Unsurprisingly, she’d found an excuse to leave Harry in the common room. Saying she'd forgotten a book in the library and needed it for her essay. It wasn't such a stretch because with little this being OWL month, Hermione was forever diving into the library. 

 

Silently, they walked through the shadow and light of corridor until they made it to the hidden staircase. For him, it felt like it was their special place. It was here they'd hidden from Filch, third year, Boxing Day when they’d almost made-up; this is where they sometimes talked about Harry; and where they’d stopped to think whilst running from the Inquisitor Squad.

 

They were on the third step when Hermione grabbed his hand. She stepped up one, making them eyelevel. He couldn’t suppress a smirk. She was very cute when she did that.

‘Ronnie,’ Hermione said in a timid voice, ‘are you alright?’ she added genuinely concerned voice. 

‘Yeah,’ he said brightly looking down at their joined hands.

‘I’m glad because Harry was out of line lashing out at you like that... about the dream, I mean.’

‘Well, I used to it,’ Ron shrugged, trying to remember how to breathe, wondering how on earth he’d ever thought she was a nightmare, ‘since last summer he’s seemed like a different person and that’s just his nasty side.’

‘I know but...’ she started before changing her mind. He gave her his best really-Mione-I’m-fine smile ‘Oh well, you better be going to practice.’ Without fuss she lent closer and kissed his cheek tenderly. It lingered and his inside felt like they were melting, ‘Good luck then,’ she beams before rushing past him towards her destination. For a second, he was left dazed and touched the side of his face like he’d done before.

 The only thing that lingered was the faint whiff of the perfume he’d given her for Christmas. Summer at the Burrows and dessert: needless to say Quidditch practice went well after that.

* * *

 

The morning of the final Quidditch match seemed to be upon them sooner than anyone could have predicted. Unable to sleep, Ron snuck downstairs as silently as a bug. At the window, he sat and watched the light touch the goal posts on the Quidditch pitch. They were like rings of fire, dangerous and perilous his breath hitched. _I’m doomed_ ; he thought gloomily, _I’m the worst quidditch player Hogwarts had ever seen._

In that moment, he realised something. It would take something spectacular for his quidditch performance to get worse. Just like when he started Hogwarts, no one expected greatness. As far as he was aware Gryffindor’s weren’t even planning a party after the match. Ron suddenly felt relieved. He was just going to play because he liked it and forget everything else. Then, Crookshanks appeared on his lap.

‘Hey ‘shanks,’ he asked affectionately, ‘do you think we’re going to win?’ Crookshanks meowed happily and curled up. For a mad moment, he wanted to send Crookshanks upstairs to fetch Hermione; but he knew it would be selfish. So, he sat there trying to compose a letter to Bill; about how much of a chump he felt for trying to be keeper.

* * *

 

No matter how much Ron said this match didn’t matter: it did. It was going to be his last match: of the year, and of his Hogwarts career. It was good that Fred and George weren’t here to see his out and out disgrace. As he flew up to the goalposts, he saw Hermione’s hair being messed by a light wind. Harry was sat next to her hopefully looking up. Suddenly, he wasn’t as relaxed as he’d thought. He hated to lose in front of his two best friends.  

Fleetingly, he realised something he’d miss about being keeper: Hermione kissing him. This morning Harry couldn’t be gotten rid of, so he was disappointed they’d not gotten the chance. But he knew it was entirely possible to snog Hermione all the time, if he asked her to be his girlfriend.

‘And they’re off!’ Ron vaguely heard Lee Jordan shout. Then, it was like a nightmare. He wondered if someone had cursed him because everything was happening in slow motion. Davis had the Quaffle, he swept one way, dodged the other and had scored because Ron had change to guess or second guess himself.

His groans were echoed by every Gryffindor at the match. He was too afraid to look at Hermione and Harry but caught a glimpse of Draco get into position to conduct _Weasley is Our King_. Sure enough, within seconds the Slytherin stand was in fine voice and Ron wanted them all to start ‘eating slugs’. His confidence waned. Silently, as he redirected his gaze to the Quaffle, he swore that one day the incredible bouncing ferret would pay.

As he found the Quaffle, he noticed that Hagrid was whispering to Harry and Hermione. If Ron wasn’t in the middle of a quidditch match; it would register more clearly that Hagrid looked like he’d been in a fight. All that registered was Hermione and Harry were edging away from their seats and that the Quaffle was heading his way. Out of nowhere, a little voice whispered, _you can do this!_ He remembered all the times his brothers had made him play keeper and unexpectedly, this wasn’t so difficult.

Bradley was coming towards him quickly: his expression triumphant. Bearing right (Bradley’s left); it reminded him of how Percy the Prat would play whenever he’d been forced to. Without over thinking it, Ron Weasley dived for the ball. With all his might he dived left (Bradley’s right) knowing he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. To everyone surprise, including his own; the ball easily landed in his glove.

The rest of the game happened in a blur. Without Fred and George to laugh at him; and without Hermione and Harry to distract him with their overwhelming hope; he just concentrated on the Quaffle. Within five minutes, he’d saved another one with millimetres to spare and he began to enjoy himself. His enjoyment increased when the Slytherin fans choked on their _Weasley is Our King_ lyrics.

To say that Ron Weasley enjoyed the end of the match was an understatement. Being carried aloft by a jubilant crowd of maroon and gold was only the beginning. The Euphoric crowd began another chorus of _Weasley is Our King_ as Harry and Hermione came into view. They smiled and didn’t let whatever news Hagrid had told them spoil the celebration. For which he was glad.

At the party, they stood shoulder to shoulder with him as he relived some of the greatest Quidditch moments. Lee, Neville and the Creevy brothers snuck into the kitchen’s for party supplies. There was even a mysterious case of Butterbeer delivered for the team to share. Ron’s favourite part of the party was when after one too many butterbeer’s, giggly Hermione tried to be strict and send the first years to bed before midnight.

* * *

 

**The perfume smell is mentioned in chapter one of _The Brother’s Code_. For the other moments, referenced please see my profile. This is part of the luck series. **

**TBC**


	2. Hallow Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Hermione's freaking out and Ron gets an idea.

**Third time Lucky C2**

**This is the second, long awaited for chapter of the third luck fic. Sorry it took so long. Some dialogue is taken from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR.**

* * *

 

 _Hagrid and Madam Maxime had eloped_ he mused with a distant stare _and they were about to have a giant baby_. It was a noisy Sunday in the common room because he was the quidditch star, but he was thinking about what Hagrid could have said. Everyone seemed to love him but in the few moments between replaying the match and talking to fans; he would gaze out of the window and come up with different reasons for the Hagrid’s secrecy.

_Norbert had come home. She’d laid a dozen eggs in Hagrid’s cabin and now they were ready to hatch!_

Ron Weasley gave a shudder, looked over towards his friends and wondered when... when they’d tell him they’d left the quidditch match early. He was grateful that they’d kept the reason to themselves yesterday; when he was basking in the spotlight of his own success. With Hermione practically hanging off his arm and listened intently. Harry was his _sidekick_ and had stood by his side looking proud whilst laughing, clapping or questioning at all the right moments.

However, as the today had worn on, he’d hated the little looks that passed between Harry and Hermione. There was something between them now that he didn’t share, and he hated that feeling. Whatever it was was located deep in the forest – he knew this because they had scratches on their arms and twigs in their hair. In the time between awake and asleep that night he has a nagging doubt, but pushes away the thought that there could be another reason for twigs in her hair and the secretive looks they’re given each other.

It was Hagrid’s secret, he reminds himself. Hagrid had been the one to take his friends away.

They thought he hadn’t notice their absent but he had and now it was time to talk about whatever it was.  He wanted to know why Hermione seemed so listless, why her clothes had been ripped and why she sometimes refused to met his eye. Unparalleled relief washed over him, after lunch when Hermione suggested that they move their homework and revision outside.

Outside where there was sunshine, happy students but most importantly, privacy.

They wandered down to the beech tree at the edge of the lake. He and Harry threw themselves onto the grass while Hermione gently placed herself down. She looked over at him smugly; usually, she’d scold but today she didn’t nag him about homework. It made Ron restless, wanted her attention, it was nerve wrecking waiting for them to tell him whatever news they had.

The surface of the lake glistened like glass, reflecting the castle and trees around it. The wind carried the whisper of girly giggles; casually he looked over and saw some third year Hufflepuffs ogling him from the nearby bank.  This attention he enjoyed, casually, he ran his fingers through his hair. They seemed to be enjoying the view and he wished Hermione did too. Casually he looked over and saw her roll her eyes with pursed lips that threatened to erupt into a grin. With her attention on him; he talked about his first save of the match, so he could enjoy her reaction. Hermione’s smirked cutely, which didn’t bother him; it was Harry’s grin that gave him pause.

‘Why are you grinning?’ he asked, halting his story.

‘I’m not,’ Harry said, returning his attention to his notes, whilst failing to straighten his face. ‘I’m just glad we won, that’s all.’

‘Yeah,’ Ron slowly said, enjoying the sound of that, ‘ _we won_.’ He was bored now and he wanted the truth, so like the chess master he was, he deployed the one part of yesterday’s story that would force a confession. ‘Did you see the look on Chang’s face when Ginny got the snitch right out from under her nose?’ He encouraged eagerly.

‘I suppose she cried, didn’t she?’ Harry asked sulkily.

‘Well, yeah – more out of temper than anything else, though,’ Ron commented, frowning slightly because he had expected more of an opening and this had to be convincing. ‘But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got to the ground, _didn’t_ _you_?’

‘Er-’ Harry said, stumped.

‘Well, actually... no Ron,’ Hermione sighed, putting her book down. She looked apologetic and his heart stopped. She really was beautiful in the sunshine. ‘As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies’s first goal.’ She looked so disappointed, he felt lost.

‘You didn’t watch?’ he said faintly, looking between his friends. This was the moment. ‘You didn’t see any of those saves?’

‘Well – no,’ she said, extending her hand placatory. He noticed a slight bruise on her hand and wanted to kiss it better: just as her gentle touch could to make everything better for him. ‘But Ron, we didn’t _want_ to leave – we had to.’

‘Yeah?’ Ron said, trying not to smile. He felt his cheeks redden, he was bursting to tell her, he knew. ‘How come?’ he asked, trying to sound clueless. Hermione’s expression wavered and he was certain that she knew, he knew. Fortunately, Harry interrupted with the whole disturbing tale. 

‘It was Hagrid...’ Harry started the story that starred something that Ron could never have guessed: Hagrid’s brother Grawp. This was far worse than a giant baby or a litter of dragons!

‘No, he can’t have.’ Ron stated emphatically. There was no way that Hagrid could have done that unnoticed.

‘Well he has,’ Hermione said firmly. ‘Grawp’s about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,’ she gave a dramatic pause before snorting, ‘as Hermy.’

Ron laughed nervously: Hermy! That was a contraction he hadn’t considered. There was one part of Hagrid’s plan he wanted to verify.

‘And Hagrid wants us to...?’ he had to ask.

‘Teach him English, yeah,’ Harry confirmed.

‘He’s lost his mind,’ Ron said astounded, by the idiocy of this plan.

‘Yes,’ Hermione agreed going back to her homework looking irritated. ‘Yes, I’m starting to think he has. But, _unfortunately_ , he made Harry and me promise.’ She sounded like someone who had agreed to a promise without knowing what it was, and now regretted it.

‘Well,’ he said catching her eye. ‘ _You’re_ just going to have to break your promise, that’s all.’ He said firmly, she didn’t look convinced. ‘I mean, come on... we’ve got exams and we’re about that far,’ he showed placing his fingertips practically together, ‘- from being chucked out as it is.’ He knew that argument would appeal to Hermione inherent priorities. She bit her lip with uncertainly. ‘And anyway... remember Norbert?’ he asked pointing to the scar on his hand where he’d been bitten. ‘Remember Aragog?’ he appealed to Harry. ‘Have we ever come off the better for mixing with Hagrid’s monster mates?’ he asked feeling slightly hysterical.

‘I know,’ Hermione replied in a small voice, ‘it’s just that we promised.’

The more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to keep Grawp away from _Hermy_. He smoothed his hair down with his fingers, feeling very distracted.

‘Well,’ he sighed heavily, ‘Hagrid hasn’t been sacked yet, has he? He’s hung on this long, maybe he’ll hang on till the end of term and we won’t have to go near Grawp at all.’ It was then, that Ron picked but his transfiguration book and tried to study his cares away.

* * *

 

At that night’s dinner, Hermione passed Ron a note:

_Common Room: 1am._

At twelve fifty, Ron Weasley snuck downstairs to find Hermione standing by the fire with her arms crossed. Her hair looked like it was on fire while her lips were thin and unforgiving. She was more beautiful and terrifying than he’d ever seen her. He gulped wanting to both run from her and to her.

‘You knew,’ she said simply.

‘Knew what,’ he replied, throwing himself onto the sofa.

‘You knew Harry and I left the quidditch match and you never said anything,’ Hermione accused, pointing a finger at him.

‘No I didn’t,’ he said automatically, her eyebrow arched and he gave a deflated sigh. ‘Okay I did. I saw you leave. And I noticed all those scratches and leaves when I was being carried along by the crowd.’ Hermione sighed, wondering why it was that Ron always noticed these things.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she pleaded with him, as she sat at the edge of the sofa looking adorable in a prim kind-of-way.

‘What should I have said in the middle of the party, Hermione?’ he enquired, sitting up and knowing the answer full well. For a moment she was silent, and then her eyes narrowed.

‘Why didn’t you say something by the lake?’ she asked, and any resolve he had not to give her anymore information crumbled like a badly made cake.

‘I was enjoying myself...’ he admitted looking into her doe eyes.

‘Yeah I saw that,’ she scoffed running her fingers through her hair and then mimicked: _‘And then, Chambers came at me...’_ her impression was cut short by a pillow flying at her face. The resulting cushion fight was very enjoyable and just what they both needed.

* * *

 

 _This was ridicules_ , he thought. OWL’s and NEWT’s were the only thing fifth and seventh years talked about. Hermione was frantic. What was more worrying was that she was trying to take him (and Harry) down with her. Every report of a cheat, she swooped down and dealt with. She was like the second coming of McGonagall. Every black market item, she confiscated. The last straw was when she chucked Eddie Carmichael’s perfectly good _Brain Elixir_ down the toilet.  

‘Hermione, we wanted to buy that!’ He shouted as she exited the girl’s bathroom. She explained that it was rubbish and that Dingles powered dragons claw was nothing more than Doxy dropping. From that moment on, Ron went back to Christmas day the revision timetable Hermione had drawn up for him.

It was brutal and all the teachers seemed to be on Hermione’s side. Every one of them drilled their classes on topic’s that traditionally came up in the exam. Homework had thankfully stopped so the only deadline he was conscious of was the two weeks of pain that were forthcoming. He read Hermione’s carefully written notes and tried to copy them out. But it was no use; the only exam he felt he’d probably do okay in was DADA and that was because Harry was such a good teacher.

He reasoned, as he tried to take in a passage about the troll rebellion, that if Procrastination was an OWL, he’d achieve an O. He found many ways to occupy himself, only some of which involved Hermione. For fun he would sometimes flick back to the words written in Hermione's small but beautiful handwriting in the homework planner were: _'set tradition'_. The memory sent a thrill to his very stomach and he enjoyed imagining ways to get it to happen again.

Hermione, however, was too concerned with her own revision to bother about finding a corner to snog in. He thought it would be good for her (well them both actually), he thought about pitching it to her as an excellent way to relief stress... then he noticed the way she chewed her lip the concentration on her face and thought again.

The apex of this stressed Hermione mode came during their final Prefect round before the exams when he innocently tried to help her to revise. However, no sooner had he asked her a question from the text book, and received a correct answer than the tome would fly out of his hands and she was rechecking herself. It got to such a state, that Ron took the book, snatched her bag and forced her to take a break for the remainder of the night.

They spent the rest of the evening playing eye spy and making up ridicules stories about the paintings they pasted.

* * *

 

With less than twenty-four hours until the exams Ron Weasley stirred slowly out of bed on Sunday morning. It was nine thirty am and he knew without being told that Hermione was waiting for them both downstairs. He imagined her anxiously revising; ready to plough on and encourage them. _Much as I love Hermione..._ He thought lazily, _I prefer my bed on Sunday mornings_.

His eyes popped open _._

 _I love Hermione,_ he grinned; enjoying the feeling those words gave him. _I’m in love with my best-female-friend. This feeling’s more than a crush, more than raging hormones even more than supporting Harry and each other through the ever changing years. This was everything. She was everything._ And he knew, in that instant, that friendship alone could never satisfy his need for Hermione. He wanted her love.

‘Ron,’ Neville said popping his head through the door. ‘Hermione’s downstairs waiting for you and she said if you don’t hurry down she’ll come and drag you out of bed herself.’

‘Ha,’ Ron responded with a grin, ‘I’d like to see her try!’ He laughed, stretched lazily looking at the door, daring her to enter. _Bed on Sunday morning with Hermione_ , he thought ruefully, _now there’s a future to fight for!_

‘What about me?’ Harry said sleepily opening his curtains with a disgruntled expression. His tone snapped Ron awake.

‘Sorry mate,’ Neville said turning round, ‘she didn’t mention you. Only that one...’ he said vaguely pointing to a smug Ron.

‘Well that’s nice,’ Harry said, collapsing into his pillow, ‘I thought we were friends.’

‘You are mate,’ Ron reassured him scrabbling to find clean clothes to throw on. ‘She just wants someone to quiz her and she thinks she has a better chance badgering me.’ At this comment, he felt his ears go red. So he made a joke of it: _‘Now Ron, we have to set a good example for our classmates!’_ he said imitating Hermione’s voice. ‘Merlin much as I love... being a prefect... there’s no way I can take the pressure of little Miss Snatch-the-Book!’

A few minutes later, Ron and Harry were descending the stairs with an anxious Hermione waiting. Her stance reminded him of that long evening waiting for news after Harry’s Dementor attack. As she opened her mouth to speak, Ron responded to the unuttered request.

‘ _No_ Hermione,’ Ron said firmly. ‘As much as I want to support you through this exam time... I can’t’.

‘Well, a good morning to you too Ron,’ Hermione sniffed, as she turned to get her bag. ‘Aren’t you just charming?’

 ‘Yeah I am actually,’ he said with an innocent grin, ‘I spent yesterday rearranging my Charms notes,’ Hermione cocker her eyebrow, ‘well actually they’re your charms notes, and I’m going to read through those.’ Her eyes narrowed, her hair seemed to flare up and all he saw was how attractive she was.

‘I’ll help you, Hermione,’ Harry said in his please-don’t-fight voice. Ron put his hands up indicating a truce and wondering if Harry was ready for the full blown exam stressed Hermione.

As they climbed through the portrait hole Ron added, ‘and another thing, after each exam... Hermione, I implore you, for Merlin’s sake, don’t go through every exam paper, its bad enough doing it once...’

That afternoon, he sat back trying to pay attention to his notes (well her notes). He was silently rereading a paragraph about the cheering charm when Hermione and Harry got entertaining. Ron tried not to pay attention to them, knowing he needed to study. He stuck his fingers in his ears so not to get distracted. But even though they sounded further away – the cry of pain caused when the sharp end of _Achievement in Charming_ book collided with Harry’s nose, was still audible.

Harry’s eyes watered with pain, as he cupped his injured bridge. The book had missed his glasses, which were now perched askew on his face, and had left a visible dent. Hermione seemed too concerned with making sure the answer she’d given Harry was completely correct to concern herself with Harry’s injured nose or feelings with she automatically muttered an apology.

Harry then refused to help her any more. Ron was glad of this because the more agitated Hermione got. The more her hair seemed to take on a life of its own. As her stressed mounted; her hair got fuller and frizzier. He knew she hated it. But he didn’t – in fact, he could now say without a shadow of a doubt that he loved it. It was cute and sexy at the same time. He wanted to study it (and her) rather than his charms notes... He ached to take her in a corner and snog her senseless – but he couldn’t so Harry sullenly, picking up his book and Hermione hiding quietly behind hers was the best thing that could have happened.

* * *

 

In bed that night, sleep refused to come easily. It had been a momentous day. He’d managed to read his notes and concentrate a little whilst across from Hermione. He’d even prevented himself from; a) being drawn into her exam craze; b) taking her into a corner and confessing before expressing his undying love for her; and c) obsessing about what to do next as regards the _I’m in love with Hermione_ , realisation.

Now, alone behind the safety of his bed hangings, he thought about Hermione. She was probably curled up, in bed speed reading Achievement in Charms whilst absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks. Before his first Quidditch match she’d said: ‘I never feel I perform well in exams if I’m not a bit nervous,’ he smiled at this... Hermione was more than nervous about proving herself over the next two weeks. And even though he was nervous too, concentrating on what he could do to make her feel better, made him feel more at ease.

He knew Hermione and could do anything she put her mind to. This was the girl who had once gotten 112% a Charms test. Then again, she was also the girl who had run screaming from a Boggart during their third year DADA exam. In fact, Ron thought ruefully, it was likely the DADA exam the one she was silently dreading.

He wished there was something he could do. Somehow, he felt like, if he could make that exam less stressful for her. If he could do make a difference then that would be good. Then, a memory peeked through his consciousness it was from the beginning of his quidditch career: before the first quidditch practice that went right.

_They were alone. Hermione beamed at him in the library. She grabbed his hand and his body had felt alive then she’d said those most beautiful words: ‘come with me.’_

_His hormones had raged as they weaved through the shelves until they were in an isolated part of the library. He knew he didn’t have time for this and that he should have already left but onwards they’d gone. As soon as they stopped, she dropped his hand, looking nervous. She’d bit her lip and twisted her hair a little bit._

_‘So?’ he asked shortly. Trying not to think about what he wanted to think about. ‘I don’t have time for games Hermione; I need to practice for one. Or at least practice for chucking-‘_

_His words were cut off by Hermione standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss between his lips and cheek. It was slow and languid._

_‘Okay, what was that for?’ he’d grinned, touching that spot on his face as if trying to capture the sensation._

_‘For luck of course,’ Hermione said in a business-like tone; before spinning on her heels and slipping away._

_‘This is why you sent Harry off..?’ he’d asked following closely behind her. All thoughts of his Quidditch performance chased away._

_‘I sent Harry off because... do you want to explain what I just did,’ she muttered quickly as she grabbed a random book. ‘Or that we’ve done that before?’_

_Ron remembered the last time with perfect clarity: before the second tri-wizard task, in McGonagall’s office... but that peck on the cheek had ended in snogging... and snogging was some_

_‘No, don’t be bloody daft,’ he replied cheekily. ‘I want to return the favour,’ Ron flirted, this time without thinking. She glanced back around and caught him looking embarrassed._

_‘Not in front of Harry you won’t,’ Hermione said firmly. ‘Rule number one,’ she added glaring at him, ‘we don’t do that in front of Harry.’_

A wide toothy grin exploded onto his face. It was time to return the favour.

* * *

 

**That library recollection is from _A Second for Luck_. **

**Next Chapter: kissing in the next chapter.**


	3. Returning the favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the long awaited final chapter of Third Time Lucky. I knew I needed the final moment to be special and very Ron... but even I was surprised at how long this took. 
> 
> Hermione gets a good luck kiss.

** Wednesday, the hours before Defence Against the Dark Arts Day **

Ron knew which exam she was dreading. All her talk of nerves being a good sign, that she ‘never feels you perform well in exams if you’re not a bit nervous,’ HA!

It was Wednesday night when he knew his suspicions were right. Hermione, his beautiful, strong intelligent was freaking out about her DADA exam. She didn’t eat anything at dinner, she looked tired and her face twinged with unspoken pained. Ron was worried but he didn’t tell Harry. He had a plan. Due to the exams, and the fact that they were always surrounded by people, he had had to figure out a number of times and places that the favour could be replayed.

Their first opportunity would come on Wednesday night: when Hermione would go for a relaxing swim/bath in the perfect bathroom. He had to admit it had been one of his more ingenious ideas. Over the Christmas holidays, Bill had told him and Harry how he’d survived his exams and Ron had dropped it casually into the conversation: ‘Bill says that anyone who’s serious about their exams should take a relaxing bath before the subject their most anxious about...

Consequently it was no surprise to Ron that Hermione came downstairs on Wednesday night, with her toilettes and 3rd year DADA notes with an imperious charm. Ron smiled as she slipped through the portrait hole into the castle beyond. He’d left his own swim gear prepared on his bed, but when he burst through into his bedroom he found Neville coming out of the bathroom. Ron was in such a rush that he ignored Neville and was half out of the door when he heard:

“Where are you going?”

“To swim in the Prefects’ bathroom,” Ron answered eagerly, from the stairs, not stopping.

“But Harry said he’d help me with my revision!” exclaimed Neville, unhappily. At this, Ron stopped and wheeled around.

“Well, you still can do, _I’m_ off for a swim...” Ron exclaimed patiently. “I’m going, Harry isn’t. It’s great for stress relief!” Then, Ron continued his journey. It took him longer than it should have because Peeves had exploded dung bombs in the corridor just outside of the bathroom, so he had to double back on himself. When he finally got to the bathroom he realised he was in trouble. The door, impregnated with ancient magic, had sealed itself off against someone of his gender getting in there.

Defeated he slid against the wall and decided to wait. Somehow, the ghost of a long haired woman drifting serenely by didn’t surprise Ron. He suddenly had an idea.

“Grey Lady,” he called in a surprisingly respectful voice. The ghost turned around haughtily. Ron knelt on one knee and looked pleadingly at her, unfazed. “May I request a service of you? My friend is in the bathroom and I need to speak with her...”

“I am not an owl for Gryffindor students in their romantic entanglements...”

“I understand that lady,” Ron politely replied, still on bended knee. “But my friend, Hermione is as wise as any Ravenclaw student and I only wish to wish her luck in her examination tomorrow.”

“If your friend is so wise, surely she doesn’t believe in luck, student,” the gray lady responded looking at him.

“No indeed,” he said with a shy smile, “but, I, who am not so wise desires to help calm her nerves as best I can.”

“What is your name student?” the gray lady asked.

“Ronald, my lady,” Ron said patiently, wondering why he was being so respectful to this ghost. The ghost silently considered him.

To his surprise, the lady smiled: “Arise, Rognvaldr, I have considered you’re requested and will go and speak with your _friend_.”

Ron’s ears went red: both at the name and at the ghosts knowing tone.

Five minutes after the lady had disappeared; he heard what sounded like a group of hippogriffs stampeding towards him while quietly, he heard the bathroom door opened. Silently he sighed knowing what was going to happen. He gave Hermione a weak smile as Harry, Neville, Seamus and Dean came around the corner.

“What’s all this?” Harry asked in surprisingly good spirits. “Hermione mentions some way of exam stress relief and you don’t tell us!” The boys around Harry sniggered.

“Well, you know,” Ron stammered incoherently, he felt his ears redden and he was sure that his so called ‘mates’ suddenly had other ideas as to his and Hermione’s stress relief.

“It’s all right for you Harry,” said the voice of Hermione from the bathroom. “Defence is your best subject whereas for us all... well we have to put a little more work into it!” Harry was sensible enough to look a little abashed before he, Seamus, Dean and Neville slipped into the bathroom debating loudly as to what kind of water fill the pool with.

“I’m going to ignore the non-prefects in this bathroom and have an early night,” Hermione said with a heavy sign, as she went past Ron smelt again the perfume he’d gotten her for Christmas: summer at the Burrow and dessert. This empowered him to ask her quickly.

“Tomorrow morning, met me in the alcove. Early.”

Hermione gave a small nod in reply before heading back to the common room. When she was gone, Ron joined his friends and practiced Defence Against the Dark Art’s with his mates by canon balling into the pool. They shouted curses and their counter-jinxes until their night was late, their skin had pruned and there was more water on the floor than in the pool.

* * *

 

** Defence Against the Dark Arts Day **

The next morning, Ron Weasley was not exactly thrilled when his alarm (which he never usually used) awoke him. The day was still so young, and his bed was so warm and comfortable. An image of Hermione drifted into his mind; waiting for him. Suddenly he was awake. Hurriedly he got dressed, brushed his teeth and racked his fingers through his hair.

To his surprise, Hermione wasn’t there waiting for him when he arrived at the alcove in the common room. Ron sits in the alcove waiting for her, practicing what he wants to say while the morning light fills the room. There are sounds of people falling out of bed when she appears.

She slowly walked downstairs; with a delicacy that makes it clear she’s had a broken night before her least favourite subject. Their eyes meet and Hermione smiled, and it occurred to Ron that he hadn’t seen that smile in a long time. She walked towards him slowly and for a minute the light catches her hair and there are so many different hues that he wonders how anyone can doubt she’s beautiful.

‘I can’t do this Ron...’ Hermione says plainly as she gets to his side. She’s biting her lip and all his practiced words fly from his head.

‘Yes you can, you’re brilliant,’ he responds without thinking.

‘It’s just books and cleverness Ron, in a fight; when it matters I’m worst then useless...’ she moans bowing her head.

‘Now you’re just being daft, this isn’t a real fight Hermione. It’s just another exam. You’re brilliant at exams,” he reminds her quietly, trying to remain calm and unaffected by her. She needs him now, at this moment he’s the hero.

‘Everyone expects so much of me...’ she mutters looking suddenly nauseous.

‘Yeah well,’ Ron replies with a sly grin, ‘but remember what you told me before my first Quidditch match nerves being a good sign, that you ‘never feel you perform well in exams if you’re not a bit nervous.’

‘But I’m not a bit nervous,’ she bites back unhappily, ‘my whole body is raging with these feelings” she said, looking him in the eye.

‘Your body,’ he repeats with a nervous squeak. He took a deep breath; and inhaled the delicate scent of brooms, summer at the burrow and vanilla berries dessert. She was wearing the perfume he’d bought her. Suddenly he remembers the perfume order form; _‘skin close... seek out what no one else is wearing.’_ She was wearing his present and then she said something that made it even more difficult to think.

‘I want to run away Ron,’ she continued stepping closer to him. ‘I want to run _far_ away...’ It sounded so much like the suggestion he wanted to make that he had to joke.

‘Take a broom,’ he quipped, ‘it’s faster!’

‘I hate heights and flying,’ she reminded him, miserably.

‘ _I’ll_ fly us away...’ he suggested with a grin, ‘we’ll take my broom.’ Silently his eyes said: _hold on to me and you’ll never have to face DADA again. I’ll protect you!_ His hand drifted towards hers. This was it he thought, stuff Harry and exams. He was going to run away with Hermione.

‘Now there’s an idea...’ she whispered happily. Luck forgotten; he was going to kiss her and ask her to be his girlfriend. Then, they were going to run away. Neville and Ginny could look after Harry during term time... he would elope with Hermione today and they could live in Shell Cottage. He’d work for the twins and she could do anything her heart wanted. The plan was formed in a blink of an eye and a bubble of extreme calm and happiness sprang into his chest.

Ron lifted his hand to touch her cheek and leaned down to kiss her when she sprang back like she’d been cursed with a repelling jinx. His face screwed up, hurt. He glanced at her and saw her sorrowful face before realising why she’d done it.

There had been a noise: Harry merrily greeting Neville on the stairs. Thank Merlin Neville. He was now _loudly_ peppering him with Defence questions. Hermione moved forward to greet their friend as Ron looked to the ceiling pleading that they get a break! The happiness bubble popped so loudly that he was only vaguely aware of what happened next.

‘You know what,’ Harry said sounding gleeful. ‘I’m actually excited by this exam.’ Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes and he started to chat animatedly away about what the written questions could be. Normally, such talk was Hermione’s alone; but Harry was happy, so Ron kept his mouth shut. He was even glad when Hermione started to chime in. It was only later, when he was sat very sunny Great Hall rereading his werewolf answer that his mind drifted off into the realms of what to do next.

He glanced longingly over at Hermione. She was so beautiful. Her hair was shining in the sun as her quill danced across the page. He could tell she was smiling as he rechecked her answers. He looked down at his own paper and knew there was nothing more he could add. All he needed was a few minutes alone with Hermione, and for that he needed Harry busy. Harry was busy now, in the exam, but that didn’t help him and Hermione as they too were stuck here.

It was the practical exam that Hermione was dreading and that was happening after lunch. Harry would be with them the entire time. Harry was a creature of habit which was to always be with him and Hermione or to make an appearance at the worst possible moment. In fact, the only time Ron knew Harry would be occupied and unable to focus on him and Hermione was when they got split into queues. Unfortunately, they were all in different queues...

‘ _Or was it unfortunately?’_ Ron thought happily, and as the plan formed in his head, a lopsided smile spread across his face. He glanced again at Hermione and saw her looking at him with a curious expression. His smile transformed into a grin and her features were changed by a small smile for him. The examiner shouted ‘five minutes’ and Hermione gave him a pointed look of ‘you better be finished Ronald’ look.

 _‘Mione, I haven’t even started,’_ he thought as he returned to his essay on werewolves making sure that he hadn’t betrayed the fact that he personally knew someone with a _‘fury little problem’_.

Just over an hour later, the fifth and seventh years were milling in Entrance Hall waiting to go into the small chamber next to the Great Hall. Hermione was muttering to herself and Ron was looking at her concerned.

‘She’ll be alright...’ Harry said reassuringly.

‘As long as there isn’t a Boggart she’ll be fine!’ Ron quietly replied. They exchanged a significant look. Harry wished them both luck and the manoeuvred himself into the forming queue. Ron took the moment of chaos to grab Hermione’s hand and slip them both into a friendly broom cupboard. At first she looked startled, then curious.

‘What is it Ron?’ she manages to get out while appearing extremely green. She started to bob up and down on the balls of her feet. It made her hair even wilder and in this confided space he could small her perfume again.

‘I just wanted to say... erm...’ his ears went red and his mind went blank. So he touched her hand with his, and it stilled her. The words he’d been planning to stay since the beginning of the day evaporated like that the ingredient in that potion that he couldn’t remember the name of. His head ducked down and he kissed her cheek in a moment that seemed in slow motion.

‘Good luck, Mione,’ he whispered as he pulled back, ‘you won’t need it because you’re... well... _you_... and Harry was a great teacher... but I know your nervous so erm... yeah... good luck!’

Before Hermione could respond, Ron slipped out and away back into line. She touched the spot where he had kissed her and felt dazed. Automatically, she moved towards the queue for the exam feeling happier than she had in a while. 

****


End file.
